This is part of a series of ongoing OCD episodes, which I will post as they happen. This is live, stream of consciousness. It happens. Often. Sometimes the subjects are different.

It’s beyond nails-on-a-chalkboard. Well beyond that. The sound and everything surrounding the action of someone, whoever, this person, a person, you, someone brushing their hand across fabric lights up all of my OCD like fibers now pointing completely straight up from their roots.

It is a hellish sound, sight, every sense. And it goes beyond this moment. I cannot stop thinking about it. I’ve had this happen to me before, and I will think about it-and feel the same horrible things and think the same horrible things months after the fact.

Months.

It is… the very epitome of not good. It is a sensation that can’t be explained well, but it is something I wish to avoid more than most anything. Even wasps.

I think very deeply about this sensation, I obsess over it. And I immediately go to a terrible place in my mind, a thought that is absolutely odd but… horrible. When someone brushes their hand against fabric, I immediately imagine my eye-open-my eyeball being forced along the same fabric.

And now I cannot get that thought out of my head.

I get it, crumbs were on the fabric. There is a utility to what was done, but my brain has a special place for this whole situation and I now cannot stop the obsessive thoughts.

Oh, and I have no compulsion to soothe me. I have nothing I can do-no ticks, no nothing, to stop feeling horrible. I have to stop reading, writing, whatever I am doing.

I can’t even put into words how I feel, but I’ve tried. Whatever sensation you, the reader, have received from this diatribe… multiply it by 50 and then another 500.

Yes, seriously, my eyeball. That is all I am thinking about now.